From Ruin
by Levistel
Summary: "You can pay a soldier to fire a gun. You can pay him to charge the enemy and take a hill. But you can't pay him to believe." The story of the soldiers who hold on even as everything is taken from them.
1. Prologue

**[2034 GMT, 3 SEP 2186 CE, SSV Logan, Arcturus Station Patrol, Arcturus Stream]**

"Sir, I've lost contact with Observation Post 19 in the Terminus Systems. Their last received transmission was reporting unidentified forces appearing on radar and opening fire with no armaments we've seen before. I've tried-"

_Except we _have_ seen them before.  
><em>

"Understood, Lieutenant. Maintain communications with Observation Posts 24 and 45 and report in when they have something."

Admiral Steven Hackett cut the communications officer off. It was just another piece of the puzzle falling together, and he already knew that the officer would have tried everything. It was the rising fear he had to control on his ship. Keeping his officers busy and focussing on what they could do would stave off the deeper implications of rapidly disappearing colonies and installations to an unknown force. Inwardly, he sighed heavily. For all his years, he never thought he'd have to prepare for something like this.

"Aye aye, sir."

The Alliance Fifth Fleet, with the SSV Logan as its flagship, guarded Arcturus Station along with the First, Second and Third Fleet. To his men, he supposed it was a good reminder of how strong the Systems Alliance really was. Six other dreadnoughts, ten carriers, nearly a hundred cruisers, and countless thousands of frigates and smaller fighter craft darted on patrols across the fleet, he saw as he looked out into the darkness from the bridge. For all the numbers, he'd seen firsthand the uncertainty and fragility of the Alliance's place in the galaxy. First Contact had been decades ago, but he'd cut his teeth as the XO of a cruiser in that one, as ships burned and friends fell around him under the staggering might of the Turian Navy. And if his predictions were accurate about what Commander Shepard had said, this one would be worse.

He suppressed another sigh as Lieutenant Chao turned to request his attention again.

"Sir, Observation Post 45 has gone dark, reporting much the same thing. Unidentified force opening fire before transmission loss."

He could see the strain on the young Lieutenant's face as he was forced to listen to the dying words of a thousand people at a time. _This is just the beginning, son._

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Open up a channel with the Fleet Admirals in the briefing room and set up the QEC for Admiral Anderson, then get some rest. XO Nirte, you have the bridge."

"Aye aye, sir."

No words were exchanged between him and the stoic XO, but the same tightly controlled apprehension was mirrored in the veteran Captain's gaze as she nodded to him. His stride was confident and urgent, but as he neared the briefing room, he wondered if this was how death row inmates felt walking to the execution room.

* * *

><p><strong>[08:45:24 GMT] QEC Module #008 Activation Command Received <strong>

**[08:45:27 GMT] QEC Module #008 Initialising, Parameters: ****Classification [TOP SECRET], Priority [IMMEDIATE]**

**[08:45:29 GMT] Challenge Sent to [ADM D. Anderson]  
><strong>

**[08:45:29 GMT] Waiting for Acknowledgement**

**[08:45:33 GMT] Acknowledgment Received from **[**ADM D. Anderson], Signal Loss [3%]**

**[08:45:33 GMT] Communications Established to [ADM D. Anderson]**

"_Steven, good to hear from you."_

Anderson's familiar, yet authoritative tone was a welcome reminder that some things would never – _should never_, he told himself – change. He allowed himself a small smile.

"Better than good, David."

"_You wouldn't be contacting me if it weren't. How bad is it?"_

Anderson's stern face furrowed as he read the slight stiffness in Hackett's shoulders, the rigid set of his stance. While Hackett was always allergic to humour, he knew the effects of the coming war would be imperceptible to anyone but his closest friends, and the years had taken a toll on their numbers.

"Bad. We just lost contact with two of our deep space outposts. There's something massive on the long-range scanners."

A barely audible sigh from Anderson.

"_Is this what Shepard warned us about?"_

No hesitation.

"I'd stake my life on it."

The two men, half a galaxy apart, shared a quiet pause, each looking away in respect and to gather their thoughts.

"_How long do we have?"_

"Not long. I've sent word, the fleets are mobilising."

This time, Anderson sighed out loud. A resigned, mournful sound, but with underlying determination and grit. _Just like the man himself. We need people like him and Shepard. Anything less and we've got no chance._ For one short, bitter moment in time, two tired men who'd seen too much sadness in their lives and given up too much of themselves took a certain kind of comfort in the understanding of the other. Anderson broke the silence.

"_God help us all."_


	2. Chapter 1 - Dusk

**[1013 GMT -8, 4 SEP 2186 CE, Alliance UNAS Headquarters, Canada, Earth, Sol System]**

Admiral Anderson stood at ease on the floor of the Emergency Defense Committee, waiting for a break in the discussion. The three administrators talked in low, whispered tones, but their position in the open room amplified their voices and made it hard for him to not overhear. He could see a few communications technicians at the side of the room valiantly straining to focus on their terminals.

"Look, we can't spare these soldiers in reinforcing our colony worlds. They're tied up patrolling the Attican Traverse and to station them this spread out across the frontier would stretch us too thin. Hackett's recommendation has been to station a token guard on the perimeter as mobile reconnaissance while bringing the fleets back to protect valuable assets."

"We need to look at protecting our borders from the colony worlds. If we abandon them now, what message does that send? We need the fleet out there patrolling the region, otherwise we'll be seen as desperate and reactionary. Recruitment can't get any lower than it has been!"

"Hackett's information hasn't been proven yet. It's worrying, but he doesn't give a timeline and we can hardly send soldiers to reinforce colony worlds who haven't made their priorities clear yet – just look at what happened on Horizon!"

"No, Hackett's information is undeniable! We have to act on it while we can, and that means sending out whatever we can to try and stop this before it spreads further. Admiral Anderson, thank you for your input this session. We'd like to speak to Lieutenant-Commander Williams now if that's possible, and please have Shepard ready."

Anderson's jaw clenched at the politician's self-important, egotistical tone. He'd had enough of posturing and dithering about while serving as Udina's advisor. This universal dislike of agreement had meant taking heavy losses on Eden Prime three years ago while Arcturus Station decided to ignore reports of Geth and order soldiers to focus on protecting the Prothean beacon. It had meant sending Shepard out of her way to clear up Geth pockets of resistance when warnings about the real threat went unheeded, and getting her killed on a useless assignment. It had meant hindering the miraculously-resurrected Shepard's efforts to stop the Collectors, at the cost of losing her to Cerberus. And now, it was going to doom them all in the face of the Reapers. They didn't need this now.

"Just be ready to make your decision, Administrators."

Without waiting for a response, he strode out as the administrators fell silent behind him. As the doors closed behind him, he relaxed from his stiff posture, and turned to the two soldiers looking out one of the full-height windows in the waiting area. Lieutenant James Vega and Lieutenant-Commander Ashley Williams were standing there silently watching the landscape, one a tanned, solidly-built bear of a man, the other a slimmer, but just as athletic woman with straight dark hair that fell down below her shoulders as opposed to the regulation bun. _Well, I wouldn't begrudge her the leisure_, he mused, thinking back to earlier times when he'd first seen her fight on Eden Prime, and how far she'd come since then despite the stain on her family name. She'd earned everything she had.

"Lieutenant-Commander Williams."

The two soldiers turned sharply at his voice, and Williams snapped to a salute. Anderson returned it with exasperation. He disliked saluting in general, though regulations had to be followed in the presence of other soldiers, even if Williams, Vega and he were friendlier than most.

"At ease. You're wanted in the room, Commander. They want to hear you testify about god-knows-what this time."

Williams' neutral expression twisted into one of annoyance. He knew that she had a long-standing dislike for anything to do with politicians who'd never served on the front lines, born from adversity forced upon her through her family name. Stifling a smile, he placated her.

"Yes, I know. But they asked politely this time, and you know I can't say no to the people who keep my hot meals coming."

She huffed out a breath, amused and exasperated in equal parts.

"Sure. Thanks for the warning, sir."

"No problem. Don't make me look too bad in there. Wouldn't do for them to get the idea all my officers are loud, abrasive and utterly competent."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir."

Chuckling as she walked past, Anderson joined Vega overlooking the view. Vancouver had always done well as a city, with towering, elegant skyscrapers of polished white metal and reflective blue windows and green, verdant tiered gardens that wrapped around clean, pristine roads down below. Right in the heart of the administrative district, the Alliance Headquarters - United North American States building stood as one of the tallest skyscrapers, with a gently tapered peak that looked out over the warm, vibrant city and surroundings. Forty floors up, Anderson could make out the tiny swarms of businessmen, tourists and soldiers moving in and around the district, going about their day, none the wiser about the impending threat. The sobering thought broke him out of his trance.

"Lieutenant. Sorry I didn't get a chance to speak before."

"No apologies necessary, sir. I guess they just want this to be over with."

They both stood looking out the window in a moment of silence. In the distance, they could see the majestic Vancouver Spaceport. A few kilometres wide, the conical platform built on top of the water housed hangars for countless thousands of aircraft and smaller spaceflight-capable vehicles, and had landing pads and strips arranged circularly around its many levels. The Spaceport saw a few thousand ships, most of them shuttles and fighters, arrive and depart every day on its landing pads and strips. Anderson sighed in agreement, watching a frigate dock at one of the larger bays. The _Normandy SR-2_ would be there in a hangar, being retrofitted for future service.

"That they do. I'm surprised they haven't simply given up and retired to somewhere in the Pacific – you're from there, right?"

Vega grinned. Anderson was cool, not like most other officers. Even though he'd only seen him a few times, most notably while being debriefed on Fehl Prime, Anderson had remembered his name and asked him to come along for the hearing.

"That's right, sir. But I wouldn't want them spoiling the landscape, sir."

They shared a chuckle, causing the severe-looking waiting room receptionist to glare at them.

"Well, Lieutenant, they haven't done much of anything yet, and for that I don't know what to think. I'll-"

"Admiral Anderson, sir?"

The door behind them opened, showing a harried-looking junior officer looking for Anderson. When she saw the admiral, she saluted, then spoke quickly.

"The committee has asked for Shepard, sir. They just received another transmission from Hackett."

Anderson frowned. The implications of receiving news that was frightening enough to warrant another round of "shout at the committee" from the illustrious Commander Shepard were dire. He nodded, then looked back to Vega, who tore his gaze from the panorama, a frown on his face as he reached the same conclusion.

"Lieutenant, grab Shepard from her quarters. Something's up, I'll meet you down there once I check with Hackett."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

><p><strong>[1817 GMT, 4 SEP 2186 CE, Holmesglen Barracks, UK, Earth, Sol System]<strong>

"Lamb please, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."

Corporal Eric Hendriks learned early on that the mess staff weren't happy people by nature. They didn't like soldiers talking to them. They didn't like soldiers smiling at them. He was pretty sure they didn't like _anyone_ they had to serve at the mess hall. He didn't particularly enjoy the silent stinkeye he got from the severe-looking woman in her mid-forties when he tried to talk to her, and after that first encounter decided to play it safe. _Just like everyone else smart enough to notice_, he thought as he walked away with a lamb chop on his plate and began loading up on corn and gravy.

"Chill out, Hendriks, if she's like that all the time, she'll get desperate soon enough."

He turned to shoot a glare at Private Edward Ramsay, a dark-skinned soldier with a short, but solid build. His wide grin showed teeth that gleamed under the fluorescent lighting over the mess hall, a large, open area with food stands in rows against one wall and cramped, metallic tables and benches bolted to the floor. While the mess hall was a symphony of olfactory delight, the staff and the taste quickly dispelled that illusion in the first week of recruit training, not too long ago for most of the soldiers in 6th Platoon, Alpha Company.

"Don't feel bad she's way out of your league, Ramsay. I'm sure you'll find someone out there."

The comeback triggered a bunch of snickers from the tired soldiers behind him as they shuffled to their table, sitting down with a few sighs and groans. The staff higher up had decided they would put the freshly-graduated soldiers in the ongoing small-scale infantry war games the 103rd Marine Division had going with the turian 43rd Division, ostensibly as a way of helping them gain 'experience', build 'teamwork' and foster 'leadership' and interspecies relations in the most prestigious division-level unit in the Systems Alliance. _Not prestigious enough for symbolism_, Hendriks had thought as the turians caught them in an ambush on their way to liberate their assigned prisoner-of-war, their company Quartermaster, who'd taken the golden opportunity to yell at them for incompetence in the field, embarrassing the Systems Alliance, and while he was at it, the poor state of returned equipment. Even the turian lieutenant who'd set up the ambush had looked a bit uncomfortable in the debrief. Hendriks looked over to the turians in the mess, who'd understandably segregated themselves from the humans, and a shudder passed through him as he remembered the ghosts rising from under the foliage along the silent, deserted path to take out his squad. He turned back as the rest of 6th platoon sat down at their table, grumbling over their sound defeat.

"Anything new on the trial?"

Ramsay asked around a mouthful of chicken. Thankful for something to take his mind off the disastrous war game, Hendriks activated his omni-tool and scanned the headlines. The platoon were avid followers of the much-publicised review of Commander Shepard's actions by a military tribunal, and they quietened down their banter.

"Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams just gave her testimony, but no details yet, just a few short words to the press."

"Bring it up, man."

"Sure, but try not to drool too much. The mess staff might make us clean the tables."

"Screw you."

Shepard may have been the hero of the story three years ago, and every inch a formidable, respected woman, but it was Williams who'd won over the hearts of the male – and some female – soldiers for her achievements as an enlisted soldier. Hendriks grinned as he opened the live stream from the Alliance News Network, and the table crowded around Hendriks' omni-tool in the mess hall, straining to hear the tinny speakers play out the grim news over the din of conversation in the crowded room.

"… _has testified that in her time serving under Shepard, she had no concerns about the strength of her character and morals. To quote the fiery Staff Lieutenant Williams, 'she opened my eyes to the strength of cross-species alliances, united a crew of turians, quarians, asari and even a damn krogan, and saved the very same Council who then gave us a voice on the intergalactic stage. I don't know what Cerberus did to bring her back, but if she's the same woman she used to be, this hearing is a goddamn waste of time.'_

"_Whether this avid lambasting of the hearing will win them over is doubtful indeed, but we have a strong, decorated soldier ready to stand behind Shepard. The trial, conducted at Vancouver, is set to continue for another few weeks before a decision is made."_

Murmured cheers countered by annoyed glares were exchanged over the table. Shepard was a divisive conversation topic.

"The Lieutenant-Commander's got it right, the hearing is a waste of Alliance resources when they could be focussing on Cerberus and the geth. Shepard did what she had to, and always will, you heard it from Williams herself."

"Let's not get into that. Hundreds of thousands of batarians died when she blew up their relay, they can't be happy about that and no matter which way you put it, someone has to be held accountable."

"Are you kidding, Vale? That's why she was made a Spectre – to act without accountability. Questioning her judgement and second-guessing the Citadel Council gets us nowhere!"

"Yeah, and then she joined up with Cerberus and their sick experiments – you don't know what really happened to that Admiral, Kahoku?"

"Hey, cool it, there's more."

Hendriks hissed at the others. 6th platoon fell silent as the anchor's tone turned even more serious.

"…_while, reports have been received that the unknown force sighted approaching Palaven in Outer Citadel space is the same as the one responsible for the communications blackout from Khar'shan and the Batarian Hegemony in the Attican Traverse, even though the two planets are on opposite sides of the galaxy. There's been no word from Alliance officials that indicate that they're ready to discuss this event yet, and what it means for us. We'll keep you posted on any updates on this puzzling development throughout the day here at ANN._

"_In sports, the Usaru Maestros have recorded yet another stunning performance…"_

Corporal Daniel Kilbourne looked at Hendriks.

"Yeah, they were reporting that all last night. I heard Taetrus' been hit already."

"Shit, man. ANN might be one of the more 'popular' channels but they don't jerk around reporting Alliance news."

The 6th Platoon table filled with abrupt chatter.

"They haven't hit our colonies, have they?"

"Puzzlin' ain't the word, ANN's retarded!"

"T-taking a wild guess here, but I think Commander Sh-Shepard had something on the Reapers."

"Quiet down, I want to see the Maestros!"

"Keep it down, guys!"

Hendriks whispered frantically as a few NCOs on their tables turned to glare at them.

"I think you're onto something there, Chambers. What Shepard said about the Reapers can't be just coincidence. We all saw what happened three years ago on the Citadel, it's not something that just dies down."

Liam Chambers' reddish buzzcut started to match his face as the shy recruit spoke up to the table. He'd been made fun of for his stammering, but Hendriks knew he had a sharper mind than most, and what he was thinking intrigued him.

"I-I reckon something's happening at Vancouver. They've got the Emergency Defense Committee d-down there too, but you don't call those guys from Arcturus just for a disciplinary h-hearing. I mean, don't you find it strange that they're having an emergency c-committee convening in Vancouver where Shepard's trial is ongoing, when they could be up there on Brass Station coordinating with all the others? T-tell me that's weird, Hendriks."

Hendriks sat back and took a sip of the cooling coffee, and the rest of the table fell silent. He had a point. A body with the authority to ready the entirety of the Alliance and by extension, humanity, for war didn't need to travel to Vancouver for a meeting. They were there for something, and what else was there apart from Shepard?

"I guess so. I don't want to believe in the 'Reapers' any more than the next person, but Shepard knows something's up that the Defense Committee can't explain. Even if it's not them, it's big. Bigger than the Alpha Relay."

A shadow fell over the table, and Hendriks straightened up instinctively. Gunnery Chief Katherine Cavanaugh, in urban combat uniform, cast a tall shadow as the harsh, respected instructor leaned over the seated platoon.

"Shepard's a smart woman. She wouldn't fuss over nothing, but right now, you guys need to finish up your milk and clear the mess hall. The world hasn't ended yet and it won't until we Marines are finished with it. Let's get moving."

Chief Cavanaugh swept by them towards the exit, the urban camouflage colors blending around the edges into the metal-grey walls. Hendriks stayed seating for a moment, taking in the subtle, implicit concern in Cavanaugh's tone.

* * *

><p><strong>[1834 GMT, 4 SEP 2186 CE, Holmesglen Barracks, UK, Earth, Sol System]<strong>

Holmesglen Barracks was a relatively new addition to the outskirts of London, built close enough to keep an eye on the city, while far enough away to keep it from intimidating the civilians. Originally a bare-bones training facility for enlisted recruits in the Western European nations and colonists sent to earth alike, it was commissioned and built in the mid 2100's to accommodate the rise of the Systems Alliance and its doctrine as the spearhead of human exploration and development. Initially small, the base grew rapidly during the beginning of the First Contact War, adding on several prefabricated buildings for accommodation, vehicle maintenance, even a small airstrip for refuelling and a space command uplink. After the expansion, boundaries were then made permanent as it was established as a major Alliance training facility for infantry and specialists alike. With the growth of London as a major population centre with a spaceport and station in geosynchronous orbit, instructor postings to the base became highly coveted, and garrisons were traditionally drawn from the elite 103rd Marine Division.

Surrounded by marshland and forest often used for infantry exercises, the weather was best described as 'perpetually overcast', which made perfect cover for the first wave of the invasion. On a cloudy day in September, the Reapers came to Holmesglen. It was fast, brutal, and terrifying, the perfect precursor to the invasion itself. By the time the communications officers realised that their sensors were being actively tricked by technology eons more advanced than theirs, the first Reaper ships had already descended towards the cloud cover.

"Sir! Major Coats, sir!"

"Private?"

Major Damien Coats looked up from his weapon bench in the Alpha Company officers' barracks as the private hastily saluted and gestured for him to look outside. Moving to the doorway, he could see the men and women of Alpha Company milling outside the barracks and looking out from windows up at the sky. Nearby, a corporal was frowning at a radio, fiddling with the controls.

"Damnit! Pronto, this is Alpha Two Three, say again your last, over."

"No luck, Corporal? We need those signals back online."

"No Chief, I _know_ it's not equipment failure."

At his side, his omni-tool activated, with a flash priority message from the base commander, General Wilson. As he read it, his eyes narrowed in a frown, then widened.

_All Base Personnel,_

_Flash from ADM Hackett, Fifth Fleet. Short-range radio communications disrupted. Arcturus Station has been hit. Attack on Earth imminent. Commence preparation for countermeasures immediately under direction of company commanders. Civilian and non-essential staff transport to London spaceport for evacu-_

Coats' chest vibrated as a deep, thrumming roar sounded from the sky above him. Through the ever-present overcast conditions in London, he saw a flicker of red… lightning? Then, the cloud abruptly parted to admit a shape, he'd hoped never to see again. _Fuck, no_. A spike of fear lanced through him before conditioned instinct suppressed those feelings. He looked at the stunned troops of Alpha Company either reading their omni-tools or watching in incomprehension. From far away, he heard a steady voice that he soon realised was his as the instinctive fear wore off. His mind raced to catch up with time as he ran through possible scenarios, settling on the only possible one, the one that scared him most.

"Alpha Company, grab your combat equipment and gear up from the armoury! Platoon leaders, get them ready, this is not a drill!"

To their credit, a few of the soldiers in the heavily-armed Alpha Company were already pulling on their personal armour and grabbing their rifles from the company armoury as Coats dashed back inside to finish assembling his rifle. On his omni-tool, he saw the blink of a radio transmission on the command channel as the ghastly wail of sirens started blaring across the base. The transmission was clear and broke the unnatural silence he saw the corporal try to deal with earlier. _Techs must have gotten around the jamming signal_.

"_All Company Commanders, this is Sunray Minor. Radio check, over."_

The scratchy, rasping voice of the base deputy commander, Major Daniel Robertson, came through. He quickly activated his transmitter while finishing the assembly.

"Alpha One, five by five, over."

"_Bravo One, four by five, over."_

"_Charlie One, loud and clear, over."_

"_Digeris One, five by five, over."_

"_Herilax One, five by five, over."_

"_Sunray Minor, Sunray is managing efforts across the UK theatre at the command centre. Other bases have already been hit out east. Commanders, get your troops to their stations, brief your platoon commanders to prepare for a ground attack from unknown sources and then head to the command centre to coordinate. Intelligence is limited but from what's been filtered down from Hackett himself, we're facing a widescale invasion of Earth from forces never encountered before. Alpha One, I want-"_

A blast of sound interrupted the radio call, and the transmission cut out. Coats staggered as a tremor rocked the ground. Looking up, he saw red lightning flash faster as dozens – no, hundreds – of red fireballs shot out form the clouds to pummel the ground of the base and its surroundings, throwing up clouds of dust and ruined asphalt in all directions. To the north, in the direction of the command centre, a plume of fire flared through the night to mingle with the ever-present cloud. _Shit, no. Robertson, General Wilson, and General Actus are all in there!_ In the distance, another explosion could be heard and the distinct sound of windows shattering echoed. Coats had no time to wonder if there were survivors. He tightened his armour and ran outside to see the soldiers of Alpha Company already setting up a defensive perimeter around their barracks. To the north, the view of the command centre had been obstructed by a slowly-moving billow of dust and debris. He activated his radio on the company channel.

"Alpha Company, this is Alpha One. The situation is, for once, what brass has said. A full-on invasion of earth is underway. Doesn't mean ANN isn't still full of shit-"

He heard a few nervous snorts over the channel, but pressed on, not wanting the soldiers to dwell on that particular bombshell.

"But we _are_ being attacked, and this is _not_ a drill. We're facing an unknown enemy of unknown force composition and size. To say intel dropped the ball is no understatement, but that doesn't mean we can't win this. We're holding the line and taking back this base against whatever came out from under the bed. I'll get more information as soon as I can, but until then, protect the barracks with hot lead and Marine fury, Alpha Company!"

A chorus of cheers from recovering soldiers sounded as Coats ended. He nodded to a lieutenant as he ran up the stairs of a building facing the dust, and joined a private and a gunnery chief at a window. The private's hands were trembling, the rifle barely steady.

"Private, steady that aim. Don't want people to think you were too vigorous reading that magazine."

The chief next to him chuckled, and the private managed a shaky smile. Coats grinned at him, then looked through the thermal scope on his M-92 Mantis to try and see through the dust, before the upper floor of the building next to his was turned into superheated debris flying straight at him following the razor-sharp shards of glass from the…

* * *

><p><strong>[1042 GMT -8, 4 SEP 2186 CE, Alliance UNAS Headquarters, Canada, Earth, Sol System]<strong>

… blown in window. Shards of glass. Rough, rubble floor. Anderson shook his head to clear his thoughts, and managed to keep his eyes open through the pain. His arms moved. His legs moved. His head hurt. His uniform was scorched and probably beyond repair, and his side ached as if a krogan had fallen onto him from a great height. He placed a hand on the ground to steady himself, noting the pitted, grainy surface of the formerly-pristine flooring. A trickle of red flowed down his arm, and he struggled not to collapse as he stood up. Looking towards the shattered window, he clinically noted the unmoving body of one of the administrators of the Emergency Defense Committee, blue uniform torn and streaked with red. He winced as the shock receded from his system, allowing him to fully realise the situation. Two more bodies in once-resplendent blue and gold lay slumped on the floor.

When the windows had blown in, most of the glass would have flown straight into the room, but by some lucky trick of fate, the flying boardroom table had caught most of it, sparing Anderson who'd been thrown back by the shockwave and under the table. He looked towards the open window where the Reaper had descended, its attention turned to the World Trade Centre. Beams of red raked the building, as tall as the Alliance Headquarters itself, and it slowly crumbled under the wrath of the Reaper. Anderson watched the building collapse on itself, trying to process the thought that among the dots of falling debris were people whose names he might have known.

A movement in the rubble distracted him. He turned to see a figure in blue uniform, stained with slowly-spreading red, shift. His face pale and dusty, the dying technician looked with uncomprehending eyes at Anderson. He reached for him in a moment of recognition before the blood pouring from the open wound in his stomach weakened him too much, and his eyes closed. Anderson's brow narrowed in shock, then sadness as he started moving again. Most of the techs had been cut to ribbons by the flying glass. The table hadn't protected them as it had him, and none of them were soldiers like he. Angrily, he looked around for any sign of Shepard. He had to know she was safe. _They can't take her away this soon!_

A laboured gasp alerted him to her presence on the floor next to the exit. Shepard's eyes were closed, but her chest moved as she breathed. Anderson let out a sigh of relief, before calling her name again.

"Shepard! We have to move now!"

Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocussed. She raised her hand shakily to her head, feeling the bruise. Then, Anderson watched her infiltrator training take over, and her body jerked into wakefulness as she blinked through the concussion and took in the scene before her.

"Anders-"

"Come on, get up."

Anderson helped her up, the corded muscle in her arm tightening as she shook off the pain. He looked around for a sidearm, found two on the dead guards by the burning door, and passed them to Shepard, trying to avoid looking at the charred bodies he was looting. Shepard was silent, still shaky, but lucid and looking around the room. He couldn't tell what she saw, but her features had stiffened into one of painful neutrality, and he could see the emotion in her eyes as he passed her the Predator. He looked away, allowing her a moment before reaching for his earpiece. Whatever plans he could come up with, none of them involved in staying forty floors up in a burning, destroyed building liable to crumble at any point.

"We've got to get moving."

Shepard nodded and followed him towards the open window, silent as she watched the destruction.

"This is Admiral Anderson. Report in, anyone."

There was only static. Behind him, Shepard grunted as she checked the body of Administrator Lareis for a pulse, and felt none.

"This is Admiral Anderson. Report in, anyone!"

Static again, but after a second, a voice burst out, fuzzy but welcome.

"_-mmander Williams, reporting in."_

Anderson heaved a sigh of relief. Shepard joined him at the window, still silent, watching the Reaper now demolish the Trump Tower. Neither of them held any love for the conservative, predictable, power-hungry family line, but the scale of wanton destruction made Shepard visibly tense up. The Reaper was joined by another cruising down, parting the cloud cover.

"Lieutenant-Commander Williams, is that you? What's your status?"

The voice slowly became more distinct.

_"-ave cleared the lobby, headed… Normandy now. We need to get airborne."_

Anderson nodded. Getting Shepard to the Normandy would be the best course of action. Vancouver was as good as lost, having been hit so fast.

"Good plan, Williams. I can't raise the Normandy, you'll have to contact them. We'll meet you at the spaceport landing zone, Commander. Anderson out."

Anderson stepped out onto the ledge. The winds gusted around the exterior of the building at this altitude, but the two soldiers weren't mindful of that. All the two could see was the destruction wrought by the Reapers. A small gunship unsteadily scrambled from the spaceport in the distance, only to be raked by fire from a passing Oculus a few feet off the ground, crashing and exploding in a blaze of fire. All around, red fireballs were descending towards the ground, where gunfire had started up and the screams of innocents reached up to their ears. A fighter craft screamed overhead, pursued by another three Oculi, their round, metallic chasses shrugging off the scattering of flares the panicked pilot deployed. A moment later, it exploded in a cloud of shrapnel and smoke, the twisted metal of the fighter falling to the ground. Anderson swallowed and stabilised his voice. There'd be a lot more of this before the war was over. However it ended.

"Let's move."


End file.
